


The Pants

by kateyboosh



Category: The Mighty Boosh RPF
Genre: A lot of pants, Banter, Boosh boys on tour, Gratuitous mischief and monkey business because that's my MO, In the form of pants, Like the thinnest veil of plot, M/M, Pants, Platonic comedy partners, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Straight up Noelian, With drive by appearances from Rich Mike and Dave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24963811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateyboosh/pseuds/kateyboosh
Summary: "The joke of collecting the pants that appealed to them becomes less of a joke halfway through the tour, when Noel eventually runs out of clean pants."We loved them in their nana outfits on and offstage; why wouldn't we love them in and out of skimpy little pants? Complete PWP and I'm sorry not sorry about it.
Relationships: Julian Barratt/Noel Fielding
Comments: 14
Kudos: 17





	The Pants

**Author's Note:**

> Burning off all the excess smut before retreating back to my warm cardigan of writing soft things.
> 
> Partially based on Julian wearing the silver spangly pants someone threw onstage in 2006, partially based on this quote from Noel on NMTB during a discussion of getting knickers thrown at you while on tour: "Just quite a way into the tour, you always have that sort of temptation where you think, 'Well, I haven't got any clean pants. Who's gonna know, I'll wear these.'" And his sheepish "no," and taking a drink afterwards when asked if he'd actually done that very specific thing he described very specifically.
> 
> The amazing, mindreading, lifesaving [QueenBoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBoo) posted that clip on Tumblr before I could even ask if anyone remembered the ep it came from (it was S23E5). This video appearing at the right moment resurrected this anciient Boosh (hehe) idea out of the graveyard of my drafts, and I thank you! 
> 
> Big heart eyes and big thanks to [killahdillah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/killahdillah/) for reading and flailing and sending ficspiration pics that would only get us into trouble in the tags on Tumblr. <3

_**2008** _

It starts off innocently enough, Noel peering around the doorframe, reaching back to touch Julian's wrist when the street clears. They practically sprint out of the hotel lobby dragging their suitcases behind them, Julian groaning as he starts forward. Nothing is worth moving this quickly for this early in the morning. Well. If they can get on the bus unseen and into one of their bunks fast enough and he can peel Noel's drainpipes off in the cramped dark, before everyone else trudges out of the lobby and piles on the bus behind them, maybe one thing is worth it.

Julian makes it across the pavement and up the bus steps in a couple of short strides, sliding his suitcase through the walkway with an exaggerated flourish, past discarded magazines and odd socks and some cassette tapes they'd found in one of the drawers in the kitchen area. When he turns, quietly imitating the roar of a stadium crowd, delighting in their sneaky maneuver, Noel's on the sidewalk behind him, miles away from the bus doors and the warm embrace of their bunk. He's accepting a tiny silver gift bag from a couple of blushing fans, one blonde, one brunette. He beams and kisses them on the cheek and signs their programs with a raft of swooping x's and monkey faces and ghosts. He leans down, ruffling his hair as he kisses them both again for good measure, this time on the mouth. His heels clack on the steps as he clambers up onto the bus, waving as they stumble bright red around the corner, their eyes wide with shock and glee. 

He smiles sheepishly at Julian and shrugs. "Had to. Couldn't walk past them when they were giving me a present, could I?"

Julian shrugs in agreement and takes his suitcase as Noel leans on the kitchen counter, pulling tissue paper out of the tiny bag like a magician doing a neverending scarf trick. A couple of pieces escape his grasp and float to the floor; he traps them with the toe of one silver boot as if a sudden wind would blow up from the back of the bus and send them flying. He gets to the bottom of the bag, then turns it upside down. He peeks in and tilts it again. Nothing falls out. 

Julian looks into the bag himself, tapping the bottom with a finger. "It's really empty? Kind of a shit gift, if you ask me.”

Noel giggles. "The concept of a gift: all of the excitement and none of the payoff." He starts stuffing tissue paper back into the bag and furrows his brow slightly when he feels something small wrapped carefully in between several layers. He tosses the bag behind him on the counter and unwraps a tiny scrap of electric blue fabric, all elastic straps and glittery, star-covered mesh panels. A black and white tag flutters off the band of the pants; it looks just as large and twice as sturdy as they do.

Julian's brows shoot up. "Well. Isn't that a lovely pair of knickers?" He catches Noel's scowl as he moves toward the bus doors. "I can probably call the ladies back if I move fast enough. Ladies! Oh, ladies," he mock-shouts in between giggles. 

Noel's trying to hide a tiny smile, pretending to be engrossed in turning the mesh fabric over in his hands and testing the stretch of the elastic between his fingers. His hands still when Julian lets the doors close and drops a hand over his, studying the way his long fingers skate over Noel's through the fabric. When he speaks, his voice is low.

"Be rude not to wear them. They were a gift, after all."

The hint of a predatory grin is playing around Julian's mouth when he meets Noel's very big eyes. He watches Noel's features slide and darken when he drops his gaze to the pink of his parted lips. He doesn't need to read Noel's thoughts; he knows they're both remembering last tour. He knows-

They freeze when the bus doors fly open approximately one millisecond later.

*

Mercifully, Rich's suitcase slides onto the bus before he does. Noel's eyes snap from lidded with lust to slight panic as he wheels and yanks open an empty drawer, the one that was inexplicably full of cassettes at the start of the tour. He stuffs the pants in the back and slams the drawer shut. Loudly. He turns around just as Rich climbs up the steps like an exhausted mountaineer scaling a cliff. Rich surveys the scene, Mike and Dave wandering onto the bus behind him, taking in Noel's slightly guilty expression and how Julian's hand is still hovering in midair, right around Noel's stomach. 

It would have looked less suspicious if they'd let the three of them catch Noel holding the tiny scrap of blue fabric. (No one would have been surprised; no one would have cared, really. Everyone would have had a good laugh about it and reminisced about the other weird gifts they'd been given so far on tour.) It would have looked less suspicious if they'd have filed through the corridor and found a pile of clothing pushed out of one bunk, plaid and stripes tangling with a cutoff t-shirt and one leather-boot-clad ankle sticking out from between the curtains. It would have sounded less suspicious had they all heard the little breathy whimpers Noel would have made grinding into Julian's cock in their bunk in the dark, Julian's long fingers teasing inside him. 

"Were you having a party?" Rich drawls, elongating the A out in his poshest voice, accompanying it with various frantic hand movements. He kicks at a stray piece of blue tissue paper that's somehow escaped from under the tip of Noel's pointy boot and floated traitorously over to the door. Julian feels Noel wince. For a second, both have the same thought; he's fucked up and there were several other flimsy pairs of pants buried in the paper that are now scattered around the bus, waiting to be discovered. Julian waits for a couple of matching green nightmares and a frilly purple number to materialize on the floor, drop from the ceiling, pop out of the cupboards, announce that they’re going to be driving the bus. Rich's voice snaps him out of his horrified imaginings.

"You _were_ having a party. A party? Without _me_?" His hands clasp over his heart, his ending screech wounded. He sobs dramatically. Then he screeches like a pterodactyl. Noel cackles and imitates him immediately, stalking over to him stiff-legged like a prehistoric creature.

While they make increasingly ridiculous noises at each other, Julian chuckles and watches. Mike and Dave retreat to the relatively quiet safety of their bunks. The pants lie forgotten in the back of the drawer. Forgotten, but only temporarily.

*

**_2006_ **

A little over a week into the tour, they're onstage when a couple of pairs of sparkly pants land at their feet, interrupting their banter. Noel reaches for the pink pair, handing Julian the silver. They think nothing of slipping them on onstage, grinning at the screams from the crowd.

When they step behind the curtain, Noel’s on him in an instant, fingers gripping the waistband of Julian’s jeans, using it as leverage to press his lips hotly to Julian’s ear. “You should wear ‘em,” he says. Julian’s hand is resting on the dip of his back, fingers pressing into his spine, holding him there. “I am wearing them,” he responds, feeling Noel’s fingers drift down until they’re playing along the spangles stitched into the material.

He darts a glance over his shoulder, making sure they’re alone in the space, the whites of his eyes flashing in the dark. “You should wear ‘em… they were a gift,” he whispers. His palm dips to cup Julian, his hand hot through three layers of fabric. “Be rude not to.”

When they break apart and go to change for the next section of the show, Julian has an idea. He keeps it to himself until the next date, when he drops his fur coat and puts his sparkly pants and bare legs on full display in front of the crowd. Noel’s on the opposite side of the stage waiting to go on, his eyes the size of saucers. When Julian walks off, he pauses and watches from behind the curtain as Vince stumbles red-cheeked and giggling through Spain. 

He catches Noel’s eye onstage after he flubs a line completely. He raises his brow. 

_They were a gift. Be rude not to_.

*

After the pants make it into the show, the fabric floodgates open. The next night before going on, they facetiously bet on how much of the show they’ll get through performing on a pants-free stage. It’s a shock when what seems like a well-coordinated army of fans toss pants onstage, some carefully aimed pairs floating down from the balcony seats like stretchy, satiny butterflies. After the third show, they scoop up pairs at random to toss back into the crowd. By the close of the seventh show, with no end in sight to the parade of silks and satins and cotton in chaotic prints, everyone is amused. They start scooping up their favorite pairs, draping them over chairs and props and costumes as they dart backstage to change or take a breather. The pants multiply backstage like bunnies, unfurling in dressing rooms like mutated neon-colored spring flowers.

Eventually, the pants creep onto the bus, littering the tables, hung over door handles, shoved down the back of seats and into coat pockets and suitcases. 

*

_**2008** _

When the same thing starts happening two years later, everyone's still amused. By the end of the first week of the fabric onslaught, they're all jokingly keeping their favorites again. This time, though, they stash them in one place, in the kitchen drawer on the bus. It’s amusing, making a cup of tea, searching for the sugar bowl, finding an entire drawer of pants instead. It’s like something that would have gone on in the mid-Seventies on a high-profile glam rock tour.

Rockstars… comedians… it's a thin line, and they have a band now, anyway. They party backstage, and then onstage at the official afterparties, and then in clubs and pubs and in the flats of friends of a friend until it's time to head back to the bus and on to the next city. In the meantime, the electric blue pants rest proudly at the back of the drawer, the first of their kind, waiting.

The joke of collecting the pants that appealed to them becomes less of a joke halfway through the tour, when Noel eventually runs out of clean pants.

*

Tomorrow’s an off day, and Julian’s looking forward to getting through the show tonight, then the afterparty, then sinking into his hotel bed and hibernating for as long as his body will allow him. He zips his suitcase and heads to leave the bus, the last one off. He pauses when he hears a drawer squeak open in the kitchen area, followed several seconds later by someone rustling around.

Noel’s fishing around in the pants drawer as sneakily as he can manage, coming up with a flash of electric blue in his hand. He drops the pants in his excitement, his elbow knocking into a couple of mugs drying on the counter on his way down to pick them up. He rights them and nearly snags the elastic on the corner of the drawer before tucking the pants safely in his coat pocket. The drawer squeaks and then slams when he shuts it, his heels tapping down the bus steps.

Julian grins.

*

He’s extra touchy that night onstage at the afterparty, brushing up behind Noel, leaving his hand on his waist a second longer than necessary, fingertips rubbing against the waistband of his drainpipes. He doesn’t want to let on that he knows, but he knows, and he also wants Noel to know that he knows without actually knowing that he knows.

It’s a very confusing situation that Julian feels would reach a better resolution if they both simply put down their drinks, left the club and sunk into his hotel bed together as soon as possible.

He can tell that Noel’s blushing every time he touches him, can feel the heat radiating off his skin as he squirms through the afterparty. When they're finally alone in one of the back rooms in the tiny club, waiting for a cab back to the hotel, Julian puts an arm around him. He nuzzles his face into Julian’s neck, fringe sticking to his forehead as he clings to him, arms tight around his ribs. Julian slips his fingers into the back pockets of his drainpipes, slowly inching his fingers around the curve of his arse. He can feel the material of the skimpy pants beneath the denim, tracing along the hem. Noel shivers. "Why you teasing me?" he mumbles wetly against Julian's neck. 

"I'm teasing you?" Julian murmurs, stroking his thumbs back and forth in the tight space. Noel presses his nose into the scruff on his neck. "Only all night," he breathes, fingers curling into the back of Julian's shirt. He slides his hands out of Noel's back pockets, dipping below his waistband, brushing his skin. 

"Have I? I didn't notice. No more than usual, really." 

Noel pulls back, his cheeks pink, eyes outlining the tips of his boots on the floor between Julian's legs. "Who's teasing?" Julian asks, his brow raised. He flushes a little pinker when Julian slides his index finger into the front of his drainpipes this time, wiggling down past the trail of hair underneath his bellybutton, finally hooking into the elastic band of the pants. Julian grins and turns them, Noel's head gently falling back against the wall, his bottom lip creeping into his mouth. His fingers are heavy, coiled on the back of Julian's neck, waiting.

Julian kneels and unzips him slowly, peeling his drainpipes back, polka dot denim framing electric blue pants, silvery stars glittering in the delicate mesh. The elastic bands crisscross over his hips; Julian darts his tongue out to trace a diamond of pale, smooth skin. He kisses softly against his stomach, pressing him further back against the wall. When he feels Noel relax into it, he pulls the elastic between his teeth and lets it snap back lightly against his skin. "Tease," Noel breathes out above him. "You're such a tease." He's going to say more, but Julian nods in agreement and finally dips his head to mouth at him through the pants and an "ohhh" comes out instead. He goes quiet after that, aside from the occasional soft, happy noise that slips out as he listens to Julian work. 

A few minutes later, Noel's fingers are rubbing weakly through the hair at the back of Julian's neck, encouraging him as he kisses and licks and sucks at him through the front of his spit-sodden pants. His noises turn from happy to needy when Julian tugs the elastic over his hips. Just as he starts to slowly slide the pants down, there's a knock outside.

"Your cab's out front, Mr. Barratt," someone singsongs cheerily through the thin door. Julian pulls back. "Thanks. We'll be right out." 

Noel blinks down at him, dazed, as he pulls the pants back up, straightens the flaps of his drainpipes, and stands. "Julian, you're joking," he chokes out. "I can't-"

Julian cuts him off with a kiss. He can taste the slightest hint of his own precum when Julian slides his tongue into his mouth. There's a fleck of glitter off the pants in his moustache when he pulls back.

"Come on," he says. "Give you a hand when we get back." Noel groans. 

"Meter's running," Julian responds.

He groans again, louder this time. He knows better than to try to convince Julian. He gingerly wriggles his zipper closed, trying not to touch the material to his very hard cock and his very spit-soaked pants. He's fighting with the button when Julian turns around and gallantly motions for him to climb on his back. He carries him out of the club, ignoring it when Noel attempts to grind against his back and play it off as adjusting himself so Julian won’t drop him. He deposits Noel in the cab, and certainly doesn't tease him through his drainpipes and pants all the way back to the hotel.

Noel makes him pay for the cab when they pull up to the lobby doors, but he supposes it's only fair, one hand reaching for his wallet, the other squeezing gently between Noel's thighs. It's less fair of him to tease him all through the elevator ride up to his room. Even less fair when he presses Noel up against the door before it's even clicked shut, his hand down Noel’s pants before he can slide his drainpipes off.

There’s some stretch to the denim, but not enough to let him work. His lips are hot on Noel’s neck, sucking a kiss at the ridge of his jaw as he pauses to unzip him just enough, peeling his drainpipes apart. Noel’s squirming, trying to rub himself up against Julian’s hip, tugging at Julian’s hair until he turns to crush their lips together, trying to slide his pants off with one hand. He catches Noel’s wrist before he can pull them down, feeling Noel go a little limp when he squeezes him through the fabric. He pushes his hand inside, stretching the elastic away from Noel’s hips, curling his fingers around Noel’s cock.

Julian tongues him as he brings him off, little whimpers escaping out of the back of Noel’s throat when he speeds his wrist in the cramped space. Noel’s moving his hips in time as best as he can, pressed against the door, Julian kissing over his jaw and his chin, scraping his teeth gently down his neck. “Julian, let me,” he pants, “let me take them off, please, Julian. I’m gonna come-”

He grins against Noel’s neck, reaching back up to cover his wet, hot mouth in a deep kiss. He can feel Noel’s body tensing as he strokes him faster, tighter, harder until he’s right there. He takes his hand out of Noel’s pants, the elastic popping back loudly against his stomach. Julian barely touches him through the fabric as he comes, squirming and gasping, eyes wide in the dark.

“You absolute fucker,” he laughs, once he’s gotten enough breath back. Julian can feel the words buzzing against his lips as he kisses up and down Noel’s neck, holding him up on shaky legs in his afterglow. Noel scrapes a hand through his hair and down his face, then reaches down. The pants are a completely sodden wreck, wet with the remnants of Julian’s saliva and coated with his cum. He groans. “I liked these, too.”

Julian nuzzles against his throat, fingers tangling with Noel’s damp ones in the elastic on his hips. “Mmm. I liked them as well. Quite a bit.” He kneels and unzips Noel’s boots, helping him step out of them, sliding his t-shirt over his head when he comes back up, pausing to kiss him gently.

“Come on. You need a wash,” he teases, tugging at Noel’s hand. He blushes and stumbles after him in his mismatched socks, still too blissed out to scowl and tell Julian yeah, he needs a wash, all thanks to him. He lets Julian turn the water on and strip his drainpipes down his legs, tossing his socks onto the cool tile. Julian guides him under the spray in his soaked pants, undressing himself quickly before stepping in to the warmth of the water. He lets Noel rest his back against his chest as he finally slides the pants down his hips and drops them into the water pooling on the shower floor.

He scrubs Noel's shoulders and his chest and his back and stomach with his bare hands, rubbing tight, smooth circles into his warm, pale skin until he comes back to himself. When he turns and kneels, taking Julian into his mouth gently, his mascara’s melted down around his eyes from the heat and the water. He keeps them closed, taking his time, delighting in the feel of Julian against the flat of his tongue, nuzzling against Julian’s thumb pressing into the hollow of his cheek as he sucks. When Julian’s close, he reaches down gently, swiping his thumbs underneath Noel’s eyes. He opens them as Julian comes, blinking against the sting of his makeup at first, his eyes going soft when Julian meets them. 

He wraps Noel up in a thick, fluffy towel afterwards, gently drying his hair, then wraps him up in his arms in bed. They sleep well past noon. 

Half-awake, Julian listens to the slide of the shower door, followed by Noel rinsing something off in the sink, followed by the hum of a blow dryer. Noel pads back into the room, shaking his drainpipes out, tucking a flashing scrap of electric blue into the back pocket. He smiles as Noel slides back into bed and starts to kiss him awake.

*

_**2008** _

A few weeks later, Julian runs out of clean pants.

He waits until he and Noel are the only ones left on the bus, Noel gathering up odds and ends, shoving them into his suitcase. He lumbers into the kitchen area and opens the pants drawer as loudly as he can manage. When it squeaks twice, he takes it as a good sign. He rummages around, knocking his hand on the side of the drawer until he hears the tap of boots on carpet, stopping short as they reach the corridor.

Julian plucks a pair of pants from the drawer and closes it, shielding them from Noel’s view as he slips them into his jeans pocket. When he exits the bus, he catches Noel’s reflection in the darkened glass of the windscreen. He’s grinning like the cat who ate the canary.

He can’t see Julian grinning like a wolf.

*

Tomorrow’s an off day. Tonight, they play the show. They go to the afterparty. Noel’s all over him, sliding behind him, his hands falling hot and heavy on Julian’s back, trailing down to grip his arse when he thinks no one is looking.

He lets Noel get his fill, touching him, teasing him, his makeup smudging under his eyes, sweat sticking bits of his fringe to his forehead. His lipgloss is sticky when he presses his mouth to the pulse in Julian’s neck. The hotel’s near enough that they can walk back. Noel eagerly puts his unfinished drink down on the nearest flat surface when the night ends. He keeps his hands to himself the entire walk back and all the way up to their room, biting the tip of his thumbnail as his boots click on the pavement.

Julian closes the door to his room. When he’s not immediately accosted, he turns, waiting. Noel’s standing in the middle of the space, the makeup smudged under his eyes making them appear even bigger in the dark. His expression is wicked, looking Julian over from head to foot and back again. His smug, pleased, cat who licked the cream expression is back.

He reaches for the hem of his t-shirt, drawing it up over his pale stomach, his ribs, his chest. He lets it drop to the floor, keeping the knotted silver strand of beads someone had draped around his neck that night resting against his bare skin. In a feat that impresses Julian, he unzips his jeans, peeling them down his legs and over his boots.

Julian takes him in. Sure, he can appreciate classic beauty: tastefully applied black liner and mascara, red lipstick, a strand of pearls, a nice set of legs, expanses of satiny smooth skin wrapped in black lingerie and high heels. But what he really likes is all of the above, with a twist: smeared makeup, knotted pearls, strong thighs covered in dark hair matted with sweat, skin glistening underneath tiny black pants and silver boots.

Noel’s pants are tiny; Julian figures they’re about a size too small. They’re a slightly shiny black faux leather, with minuscule coral satin straps and trim. The outline of his cock is evident, the material straining to keep it contained.

Noel’s tongue darts out as he runs a hand down his chest, twisting his finger into the strap of the pants. His other hand comes up to run through his hair. Julian watches him preen as he steps out of his shoes, unbuttons his shirt, unzips his jeans. His own pants are stretchy spandex boyshorts, leopard print with a hot red-orange waistband.

They don’t stay on very long. Noel’s self-control from earlier dissolves by the time Julian steps out of his jeans. His hands are all over Julian’s arse and Julian’s are on his, Julian’s tongue in his mouth, the remnants of his lipgloss tacky. He presses himself flush with Julian, moaning into his mouth, gripping at the waistband of his pants. The fabric slides smoothly under his fingertips when he peels them down Julian’s hips, his cock springing free. Noel’s expression is eager when Julian pulls him back up to tongue him again.

When they break apart to catch their breath, Noel’s hand slides between his legs, teasing him, playing with Julian’s slit. He steadies himself, his hand falling to Noel’s hip, the satiny strap tiny but digging into his smooth skin.

“Those can’t be comfortable,” Julian says, going a little breathless at the end as Noel wraps his hand around him and starts to stroke him in earnest. Noel’s pressing kisses into the freckles on his chest as he mumbles, “Isn’t about comfort.” He tightens his grip.

“They look good,” he says, cutting his eyes up to meet Julian’s. He holds eye contact as he shifts, pressing closer to Julian, slowing the movement of his wrist, until he can feel the hard line of Noel’s cock against his bare hip. “Mmm, they feel good too,” he breathes, grinding against him, reaching up to suck at his neck.

Julian walks him to the bed, sitting down on the edge. Noel moves immediately to straddle him, trying to climb into his lap, silver boots flashing in the dark. Julian stops him with one hand on his stomach and one cupping his cock through his pants. He turns Noel around to sit in the space between his legs. He wants to tease him, just a little, but the pants are too small and there’s not enough stretch to the material to pull him out through the leg without snapping them in half.

Julian considers for a moment and then motions for Noel to sit up off the bed, his hands cupping under his arse, lifting him. Noel’s up in a blink, hovering in Julian’s lap eagerly, thinking he’s changed his mind; he’s getting straight to fucking. Julian slides his fingers into the tiny strap over Noel’s right hip. He hears Noel’s sharp intake of breath, waiting. The noise of the seam ripping as the strap on the pants comes apart in his hands is followed by Noel’s shocked exhale. Julian’s ripped the other side in half by the time he’s recovered enough to protest.

“Julian, what you think you’re doing? I liked these!” He sounds about two seconds away from a full strop, getting ready to twist around and fix Julian with a glare, until Julian pulls the dangling pants out of his lap and starts teasing at the head of his cock with them.

His mouth falls open as he presses back against Julian, tight to his chest. He clamps his hand around Julian’s wrist, trying to get him to give him more, faster, slower, anything; the unexpected sensation is overwhelming. Julian noses his hair aside from his ear. “How does that feel? Good?” he whispers. Noel whines back. “Good,” he responds.

Julian tosses the pants aside, one arm curled around Noel's waist, fingers pressed to his ribs holding him there. He offers his other hand to Noel, holding it out in front of his mouth. He licks at Julian's palm minimally, tongue pointed, then sucks Julian's first two fingers into his mouth. He runs his tongue between them, swirls it over the pads of Julian's fingers, then sucks them deeper into him mouth. He can feel Julian's hot breath on the back of his neck as he slides his fingers out. "Uh uh. Not yet,” Julian breathes against the back of his neck. 

Noel huffs a breath back and licks at his palm with the flat of his tongue thoroughly, arching his neck to reach every last bit of skin when Julian doesn’t move his hand. When Julian finally touches him properly, he pushes back into Julian’s chest at the feeling of his wet hand circling him, letting out a low "ohhhh."

Julian grips him just right, just on the side of too tight, but he starts off achingly slow, sliding from base to tip and back again until he's glistening wet with his own saliva and precum. He grips at his thighs, the muscles straining under his fingertips. Julian nips at his neck the same time he speeds his fist, his arm sliding up to pinch at Noel's nipple. "Fuck," he exhales, pushing his hips into Julian's fist, feeling suddenly breathless. " _Fuck_. Fuck me, Julian, please fuck me."

Julian's teeth are pressed into his neck in a grin. He speeds his hand until it's nearly too much. Noel’s entire body tightens, drawing up, Julian squeezing him around his ribcage, rolling his nipple between callused fingertips. He whimpers as he reaches the edge, jerking his hips up as Julian stops moving his hand. The noise he makes is somewhere between a groan and a whimper.

Julian takes pity on him, inching his fist over Noel’s cock, his movements measured and sure. It only takes a stroke and a half more before he comes spectacularly all over Julian’s hand.

His chest is heaving as he slumps back against Julian, face flushed and skin dewy with sweat. Julian drags him back onto the bed, rolling him over limply onto his front. He wants to curl into Julian, be kissed softly back to life, cuddled til he's ready to go again. Julian rubs his back for a bit in slow, warm circles. It feels nice, an anchor to Julian as he’s still floating somewhere outside his body.

Eventually, Julian taps at the back of his thigh. "Come on, up," he says, and Noel groans, burrowing his face into the stiff sheets on the bed. "Not yet, Ju," he mumbles. “Come on," he says again. Noel hears the click of the lube opening and shifts about until his arse is in the air, reaching around for a pillow to rest his head, up on his elbows.

Julian kisses his tailbone, then runs his tongue along the curve of his arse. He leans into Julian’s touch on his hip as he opens him, stretching him gently and slowly, a fingertip rubbing against his prostate until he’s half-hard again, his toes curling in his boots. A few minutes later, the muscles in his stomach are burning; he desperately wants to grind his hips into the mattress. He feels Julian slide his fingers out, hears him reaching to slick himself, and comes up to rest on all fours.

Julian leans over him, the warmth from his body radiating into Noel’s skin as he kisses the nape of his neck, his scruff brushing along Noel’s spine. He reaches a hand around, fingertips resting just at the bottom of his sternum. Noel gasps as he trails them down, passing over the taut muscle of his stomach, dipping past his bellybutton and down the dark trail of hair underneath. Just as Julian touches the base of his cock, he can feel him start to slide inside. By the time he's halfway in, his hand is curled loosely around Noel. All the way in, and he adjusts his grip, moving his wrist just barely.

"Ju, don't move," he says thickly, "or I'll come right now."

Julian doesn't respond with words. He freezes and barely breathes, letting Noel adjust. When Noel can't stand to be still any longer, he twitches his hips back against Julian, and he's so hot and thick and hard inside him, he whimpers, his words slurred. "Please, Ju-yin." Prickles of electricity run down the insides of his thighs as Julian pulls out and slides home again. So slow, God, he's always so slow at first. He fucks him long and deep like that, until his arms are quivering trying to hold himself up, until his cock’s leaked all over the sheets below them, Julian matching his even strokes with his fist.

When they’re both close, Julian slips out and guides him onto his back. He wraps Noel’s legs around him, brushing his fringe back from his sweaty forehead as he slides back inside, Noel’s ankles locking around his back. He rocks his hips, brushing kisses against Noel’s open mouth as he pushes them both over the edge. It’s a sweet, slow slide for the both of them, Noel panting Julian’s name into his mouth, heat spreading through his entire body in a glowing wave as Julian brings him through it. 

After, Noel clings to him, trying to keep Julian inside him as long as possible, until he softens and slips out. He’s just on the edge of a pleasant, warm doze, his eyelids heavy, Julian’s chest warm against his, when Julian runs a hand down his side. Noel turns his face up sleepily, eyes closed, a tiny smile on his face as Julian brushes their lips together. He slips away from Noel and gently lifts each of his ankles in turn, unzipping his boots and peeling his mismatched socks off.

Noel listens to him run the water in the shower for a few minutes and then hears the water in the sink. He stretches his limbs out against the sheets, rubbing his face in the pillow, and waits.

Julian comes back carrying a handful of wet flannels, warm water dripping on the small of Noel’s back as he cleans him gently from the nape of his neck all the way down to the soles of his feet. He chucks the used flannels in the direction of the bathroom floor where they land with a wet thump on the carpet instead, and flips Noel onto his front. He turns his face up when Julian swipes under his eyes, kissing at his thumb when he brushes it over Noel’s lips.

After he’s wiped him down head to foot, he tosses the last flannel and blows a teasing breath over Noel’s drying skin. He shivers and hums when Julian reaches down to rub at the arch of his foot.

“Mmmm. I’m well spoiled,” he slurs, throwing an arm over his face to hide the delighted flush on his cheeks. He can hear the shrug in Julian’s voice, light when he responds. “Least I could do, really.” He digs his thumb into Noel’s arch and he groans, pointing his toes. After a moment, he drops Noel’s foot back on the bed and reaches to unzip his suitcase.

Noel feels the drag of lacy fabric against his stomach. He raises his arm and peeks down, opening one eye. A clash of hot pink and cream and vivid green whispers over his skin, all straps and studs and lace.

“Seemed a shame to let these sit in a drawer. Let them go to waste on a day off,” Julian says, tracing a serpentine pattern across his skin. “Well. Actually.” He pauses and tosses them back into his suitcase. When he brings his hand back, he’s holding a pair of spangly silver pants.

Noel opens both eyes, then closes them. When he sits up and opens them again, the pants are still there, glittering in front of him. The last time he saw them was two years ago, turned back to front, wrapped around Julian onstage in front of a screaming crowd of people.

Julian nods at Noel’s silver boots where he tossed them off the bed. “These would match nicely.” Noel eyes his boots, then the pants, then Julian in disbelief. He coughs and clears his throat, handing the pants to Noel. “You should wear them. They’re a gift.”

Noel grins. He bites his lip, fingers fidgeting over sequins. “Be rude not to,” he says, pulling Julian to him in a kiss.

He winds his arms around Julian’s neck, pulling them back on the bed, tucking the pants under the corner of his pillow. They both need to sleep; there will be plenty of time tomorrow afternoon, plenty of time for Julian to slide a rainbow of tiny pants down his hips, starting with silver and walking back through all the colors til they reach white and gold, til they come together and he sees new ones glittering in front of his eyes.

Noel presses their chests together, until he’s breathing in Julian’s rhythm and Julian’s breathing in Noel’s and they’re breathing as one.


End file.
